So, I’m blogging from IB/DM‘s living room. She’s putting the Gimlet to bed, and is letting me play with her computer, because she pretty much knows I’ll be asleep when she gets back otherwise. I’ve only had one glass of wine so far, but I can hear the bottle calling me….luuuuuckybuuuuzzzz….drink me….and that’s a siren song I can’t resist.

So while I’m waiting for IB’s return, I’ll give you a Bad Idea update. Because really, you’ve been so patient, waiting so long for me to say anything besides “I’m freaked out and don’t feel like blogging,” so you’ve earned…well, more than I can offer, but here’s what I got.

A couple weeks ago, I was going to tell you that I think I’m over Bad Idea. I haven’t seen him much at all lately, and the few times I have it’s just been…meh. So I figured, hey, maybe the inexplicable and unfortunate chemistry is gone, and I am actually obsessive-crush-free.

Right. Like any of you would have believed that.

Wait, we need a musical interlude:

You know boredom breeds temptation in its wake
but will you look at what temptation’s done?
The spirit’s here in the hollow,
the message at the bottom of the bottle:
“Oh, the sky tonight is grey”
“Oh, the quiver and the quake”

OK, thanks. I needed to get that out.

So I’ve been telling myself that I’m really over Bad Idea because he’s a dork, and not very nice, and really possibly not that attractive. And I’ve also been just happening to drop by the bar a few times in the past week, just because, um, there are no other bars anywhere that I can go to. Right. So last night I was at the bar with another friend, and when she left I called Bad Idea to see if he was coming out, and of course he was–though he was drunk at the Squirrel’s right then. He asked me to hang out, so I had another beer and waited for him to get there. And when he did, he was far, far beyond drunk–well into slurry-knocking-things-over land (which is a familiar land for Bad Idea, anyway). And I thought, hey, cool, I really *am* over this absurd and inappropriate crush. Go me!

And then, of course, to make a long drunken interlude even longer, he leaned Way Too Close (TM Bad Idea) to tell me he missed drinking with me, and I was all, hey, maybe I *can* do a shot and leave my car here and crash on, uh, your couch.

Right. Except I didn’t–I went home without putting a single overt move on him. And I realized that I’m kind of over the Bad Idea crush, but also that I kind of need it–that these random OCD crushes on inappropriate people serve some purpose for me that I clearly enjoy.

So it’s a non-update update. Nothing is different, except that I’m wondering why I’m more happy with drama in my life than not. Because my life, overall, rocks; but I am incapable of not stirring any pot within my reach.

Dear gods, this post has even bored the hell out of me. I’m going to pour more wine in anticipation of IB/DM’s imminent return and ponder whether a late-night visit to the bar would be a good or a pointless thing.